Total pages in book: 121
Estimated words: 116362 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 582(@200wpm)___ 465(@250wpm)___ 388(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 116362 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 582(@200wpm)___ 465(@250wpm)___ 388(@300wpm)
“Please stop talking like Morgan Freeman,” she says softly. “It’s making this weirder.” But at least she’s not telling me to stop in general.
I reach down and slowly slide my hand down her side, the thinness of her tank top betraying the heat of her skin underneath. Suddenly I have to swallow, my narration slipping away as the reality sinks in. I take a shaky breath in through my nose, trying to remember what I was going to say.
“His fingers trail down her stomach to the sensitive skin of her waist,” Amanda whispers, filling in for me, as she closes her eyes, putting her head back into the mattress.
Bloody hell. This is the most erotic thing I’ve ever seen.
My fingers do as she says, sliding to the bare skin between her top and the waistband of her jeans. I supress a shudder; she’s so fucking soft and warm. I’m barely touching her, and she’s undoing me. “He wants so badly to let loose, to ravage her with his lips and eager tongue.”
“But he needs to take his time,” she says, almost a murmur.
Testing my luck, I slowly take my hand to the button on her jeans. “He swiftly undoes her pants.”
She stiffens. “But then thinks better of it.”
I pause. “He wants to feel how drenched she is.”
“But he knows she needs a little more foreplay,” she quickly adds.
I can’t help but grin. “So he brings his large, bear-wrestling hands up to her breasts.”
“But before he does, he brushes his fingers over her shoulders.”
And so I do. My hands look so rough and tanned against the delicate silk of her skin. Goosebumps erupt over her limbs while I slowly bring my palms down over shoulders, stroking carefully over her arms.
She arches her back slightly, her eyes still pinched shut but she’s breathing harder.
Enjoying this.
I press myself against her leg and she lets out a small gasp.
I lower my mouth to her ear. “He presses his rock-hard cock against her hip so she knows exactly what she’s doing to him.” I pause then whisper, “How hard it is to hold it together. How badly he wants to come inside her, to feel her from the inside out.”
I press my erection into her harder, sucking in my breath. Shit, it really is hard to hold it together. I close my eyes and let out a soft grunt that only makes her press herself into me in response.
I go on, my voice thick with desire. “His lips trail from her ear to her neck where he knows she’ll be putty in his hands.”
She inhales sharply. “But he knows she wants to be teased as long as possible.”
“And yet,” I whisper, my mouth hovering just below her earlobe, “she has been teased as long as possible. They both have. This was bound to happen sooner or later.”
Gently, I press my lips to her neck. So soft at first. Barely making contact.
Her whole body goes rigid beneath me and the kiss hardens, my lips taking in more of her skin. My tongue snags a taste; she’s so fresh, tart like lemons, and just like a lemon I want nothing more than to suck and suck.
She lets out a moan so close to my ear that it nearly sets me off. I drag my teeth along the length of her neck and I kiss her again, harder now, sucking in her skin while my dick gets harder between us, and slowly I’m rocking into her, trying to dissolve this maddening tension.
Her arms go around my neck, holding me in place, and I can hear her trying to catch her breath.
“She’s not sure if they should be doing this,” she says meekly, her voice cut off by a breathless gasp while I swirl my tongue down to her collarbone.
“Even though she’s loving it,” I murmur against her.
“Even though.”
I lift my mouth away, shifting so I’m above her face, and plant my elbows on both sides of her head. She looks so goddamn beautiful like this, the first time I’ve really seen her vulnerable. Wild. I’ve seen it in her writing, but I’ve never seen it for me. Her lips parted, her eyes closed, her neck arched and begging for more, her cinnamon hair spilling out from her braid.
I slowly take her glasses off her face and place them beside us. But she still doesn’t open her eyes.
“He wants her to look at him.”
When she doesn’t, I run the tip of my finger over her lips. “He wants her to see him.”
I watch her throat move as she swallows. “He wants to kiss her,” I add.
I lower my mouth so it’s just over hers and try to keep my voice steady. “He wants her to want it.” I pause, very gently brushing my lips over hers. Electric. “Does she?”
Her eyes flash open, inches from mine. They’re fearful and lustful and wanting, and she gives me a barely imperceptible nod.